Nate ignored her and continued to answer the same questions he’d been receiving for the past hour and a half as more and more people filtered in for the concert that was supposed to start in less than twenty minutes. “It’s true we don’t havethatHarry, but rest assured, we do have a Harry. Three of them. So if you don’t enjoy the first act, just wait for the next one. In the meantime, quench your thirst at the drink table, feed your appetite at the meat station, grab a chicken, pet a goat, and get ready for an evening you’ll never forget.”
“We certainly won’t,” added Lottie.
No, they certainly wouldn’t.
Nate let his gaze wander over to where a choir dressed in white robes stood next to the chicken coop, rehearsing “The Star-Spangled Banner” on their kazoos while a man with barbecue stains all over his white apron waved a giant pair of meat tongs and told them to stop stealing his act.
Meanwhile whichever Harry played bass was running around asking if anybody had seen his lucky hat while Georgie argued with another Harry about which folding table he could use to sell his books.
“I’ve already explained to you,” said Georgie, clutching one of the chickens in her arms because things had reached a level where people were having heated discussions with chickens clutched in their arms,“that you have fifteen minutes,tops, and the white folding table in the glass cottage is specifically reserved for the drinks because it has the least wobble.”
“I can’t sign books on a wobbly table any more than I can explain the entire Jazz Age in fifteen minutes. That’s ridiculous.”
Lottie cupped a hand around her mouth. “None of my folding tables from the Dominoes Dance wobbled. Just saying.”
“Oh, you wobble worse than any table I know,” Georgie yelled back at her before returning her attention to Hairy Harry or Harry Three or whatever they were calling this particular Harry these days. “Fifteen minutes is plenty. Besides, I don’t hear Tall Harry complaining and he’s only getting ten minutes.”
Georgie plopped the chicken into Tall Harry’s hands as he passed by.
“Am I Tall Harry?” he said. “Because I thought I had twenty minutes.”
He handed the chicken off to McKenna’s boss, who immediately dropped it and pulled a handkerchief out from his pocket to wipe off his hands. “Any word from McKenna? Don’t you think she should be here by now?”
McKenna’s boss had been pacing back and forth in front of Nate’s table like a Navy captain’s wife waiting for her husband to return from sea, asking the same two questions for over an hour.
Nate’s answer hadn’t changed. “Her last text said they’d finally made it out of the traffic jam and were getting close. I’m sure she’ll be back any minute.”
Maybe. Hopefully. At this point Nate wasn’t sure of anything.
And he felt even less sure when the same white truck he’d spotted yesterday at his dad’s place drove around the barricade at the bottom of the driveway instead of following the arrows to the nearby field where Gus was directing everyone to park.
Had his dad actually come through? If so, who was about to step out of that vehicle?
“Sorry,” Bobbi said with a short laugh. “I’ve been talking your ear off the entire drive, haven’t I?”
“It’s fine,” McKenna said.
It wasn’t fine. The girl hadn’t stopped talking about her Italy trip from the moment they’d spotted each other outside the airport in the pickup line. Normally McKenna wouldn’t have minded. But on an evening when they were running behind and everything needed to be perfect, McKenna was starting to mind the entire ding-dang world.
“Oh, did I tell you about the first time I tried orderingstracciatella?”
McKenna rotated her neck and forced herself to take a deep breath as Bobbi dove into another gelato story.
If McKenna had known they were going to be stuck in traffic for so long, she wouldn’t have suggested they stop for pie at a diner where they could get plenty of refills on their coffee. Yes, she’d wanted to hear about her sister’s trip, but she’d also wanted to make sure Bobbi was well caffeinated for all the excitement this evening. A girl ought to feel wide awake when she gets proposed to, after all.
But now, hours behind schedule, McKenna was wishing they’d waited to grab that coffee until they were closer to Bugle. By the timethey’d made it out of the traffic jam, they’d needed a bathroom break, which had only delayed them more.
She offered Bobbi a tight smile, trying not to think about how close they were cutting it for the concert. “Well, it certainly sounds like you had a great time.”
“Oh, I did. I’m so glad I stayed the entire three weeks. But boy am I ready to be home now. Bet you are, too, right?” She covered her mouth as a big yawn overtook her.
Uh-oh. Maybe they should stop for another quick coffee. McKenna changed the radio station, hoping to find something a little livelier than the slow Tricia and Guy Scampy ballad currently playing.
“You okay?” Bobbi asked.
McKenna spared her a glance, then focused back on the curvy road ahead of her as she flipped to another station. “Fine. Why?”
“I don’t know. You seem kind of tense.”
